Dangan Ronpa Mini: Timeline
by Cepheid Variable Star
Summary: I was supposed to attend a high school that would help me improve my talent. Instead, I get caught up in a killing "game" in the Timeline Toronto, the hotel I was going to stay at. I'm not the only one, either. How are all of us supposed to handle someone's obsession with despair? SYOC CLOSED
1. Prologue 1

**Introduction**

Hello. I'm CVS. I've been interested in writing an SYOC for some time, so I decided to design a "beginner" game. The number of characters in this fic is very small compared to most killing games to facilitate a shorter, simpler SYOC.

This is the first fanfiction that I've published, and I plan to do more with writing in general. Considering I'm still starting out as a writer, I don't have anything really huge in store. I have a few simple ideas on paper. I plan on working out the finer points once I get the characters. The purpose of this SYOC is the figure out my "brand," so to speak, of writing - the kinds of characters I can/can't write, and a Class Trial format that works for me. As such, I would appreciate any and all forms of criticism and advice! The primary goal of this fic is learning the ins and outs of a killing game, so I need to know where I have to improve.

 **Update 22/04:** the submission period has ended! I will have to take some more time to decide which characters suit the story roles best, and to finalize plans around those characters. Everyone who submitted should expect a PM sometime this week stating whether or not I decided to accept your character.

Thanks for the submissions!

* * *

 **Dangan Ronpa Mini: Timeline**

 **Prologue: Timeless**

There exists a special high school in Toronto, Canada, with an _interesting_ program that is known for attracting young talent. This program exists to cater to those with incredible innate abilities, and encourages improving these talents during the student's education. Thanks to this system, many of its alumni go on to become some of the most distinguished people in the country, and sometimes the world. Invitation conditions for this high school are strange, but accurately reflect its purpose nonetheless: you must "do" _something_ , and you must be an expert in this _something_ that you do.

So many different talented people have been invited to attend. Some talents are pretty predictable for a school to celebrate, but others. . . less so. The talent itself isn't important, though. What's important is that these people, as _teenagers_ , are the top in their field.

That's where I come in. I happen to be one of these people who surpass age limitations and approach the top. I do _something_ well enough to be invited to this special high school. I saw the email recognizing my achievements and _asking_ me to attend the school, and I had to keep reminding myself ever since then that I wasn't dreaming. I mean, it's not too hard to imagine the other teen prodigies on the news attending the school, but the idea that _I_ could be good enough at what I do to go there as well was something I never spared a second thought to. Did these other prodigies feel the same way? Did they recognize their talent, but assume they would never receive the honour they did? Did they recognize their talent, period?

In any case, my parents decided to celebrate. We flew over to Toronto a few weeks before our expected arrival to sightsee. We booked a room at a luxury hotel called the Timeline, a multinational chain famous for being the hotels of choice for celebrities and other talented superstars. I found out that the out-of-province kids often spend time at this particular location on the waterfront thanks to both that reputation and its convenient nearness to the school. My parents thought it would be a good opportunity to get to know some other people that I'd be studying with. I agreed. It would help me remind myself that I was _supposed_ to be going to the school.

When we left the airport, we hailed a taxi and drove off to the hotel. It's been awhile since I felt _this_ nervous, I thought. I wondered what kinds of kids spend their time at the hotel. Could I find a friend among them? My tastes have always been little out there, compared to everyone else's. My talent speaks volumes for me on that front. I might not have anything in common with anyone else.

I could worry about stuff like that later, once I'm actually there, I decided. There was no point in psyching myself out. My parents were getting irritated at a roadblock ahead, so maybe their irritation was causing me to worry needlessly. I closed my eyes and instead focused on the sounds outside. How many different ones could I hear? Music playing, vehicles driving by, car horns honking. . .

People screaming?

My internal monologue ground to a halt when thick smoke filled the taxi. It invaded the vehicle's interior, without regard for personal space or common courtesy. I didn't even see what caused it! The street was clear one second, and full of smoke the next! Did a car catch on fire or something? How'd all this happen so quickly?

The taxi driver reacted quickly and hit the brakes, coming _this_ close to crashing with the car ahead of us. Maybe I should have been scared or irritated, or screaming like the guys outside, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. . . as if I didn't have the energy to freak out. The only thing I could think to do at the moment was lean back on the car seat's uncomfortable headrest to wait out the commotion. Maybe take a nap to pass the time.

Hey, it seemed like a good idea then. I couldn't have possibly guessed that the smoke was actually sleeping gas! That's not something that happens often enough to consider a possibility, you know.

Even if it was, would knowing that really change what came next for me?

* * *

I woke up lounging in a _really_ comfy chair somewhere. The chair was so _nice and soft_ I almost fell back asleep right then and there. Until I realized that I fell asleep inside a taxi and this definitely was _not_ a taxi, and I bolted up in an instant.

The first thing I noticed was that there were seven other people here with me, all unconscious. Most of them were sitting in chairs strewn about the room, but there were a few that were dropped unceremoniously on the floor.

None of them were my parents or the cab driver.

Was this. . . a kidnapping or something? I passed out in a taxi and suddenly ended up separated from my parents, and it looks like I wasn't the only one. I didn't want to think it was possible, because I'm _me_ and nothing like this ever happens to _me-_ -

\- and then I remembered that I said the same thing about being invited to attend a high school for the super-talented, and I remembered that anything could happen to anyone and I'm not an exception just because I'm _me_.

I took a few slow breaths. If this _was_ a kidnapping (which was becoming increasingly likelier in my head once I actually thought about it), figuring out where I was while I was alone and had the opportunity was the first step.

Luckily it didn't take very long. A look around the room gave me a pretty clear idea of where I was taken: bright chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, red velvet chairs and expensive-looking wooden tables, and a huge symbol behind the reception desk: a clock without hands and covered with vines, the symbol of the Timeline. A television screen over to the right displayed the same logo with the word "TORONTO" over it.

The Timeline Toronto looked exactly as it did in the photos online.

The main entrance was behind me, but. . . it was blocked off. When I went and checked, the main doors and windows were covered by metal plates that let no light in, and didn't budge at all. The revolving doors were jammed, too. No amount of effort could get those open. The place was illuminated solely by artificial light.

The eight of us were probably stuck here. I guess it made sense, if it was a kidnapping. But I had to make sure. There were definitely a few emergency exits visible down the hall, so. . .

As soon as I began to leave, a couple of the unconscious students began to wake up. I hesitated- they were in the same boat as me, after all. Maybe it's best to wait for them. . .


	2. Update 1: Student List

I wanted to wait to post this until I had finished the first chapter, but there were several setbacks I hadn't planned for, including taking much longer than expected to reconcile the initial survivor team, and other sets of extenuating circumstances I won't elaborate on. I apologize for the week-long wait for what should have been a simple update, and I believe that things are back on track now.

In any case, here is the final (barring further extraordinary circumstances) list of students who will participate in this killing game, in alphabetical order by last name. The list uses full names- last name(s) first, then first name, middle name, and nicknames in quotes.

 **Student List**

Amador Santos, Reyes: Ultimate Administrator (AnonChan1)

Angel Caceres, Maria: Ultimate Painter (So how's life)

Bellomi, Pierce "Apollo": Ultimate Funk-Rock Star (tobi-is-an-artist-too)

Foxxe, Crystal "Crys": Ultimate Character Creator (RubyLeo)

Hamasaki, Nicole: Ultimate Gardener (CaptainDallasGQ)

Hanamura, Hayato Cade: Ultimate Race Car Driver (SoggyBreadLoaf)

Kuroba, Kenta "Ken": Ultimate Freerunner (Excad)

Sauer, Adelheid "Heidi": Ultimate Luger (Harukawa Ayame)

 **Special Thanks:** to reviewers, especially the commentary from Harukawa Ayame, mpjindustries, and Skiggsy that allowed me to more thoroughly consider the direction I wanted to take this story in. Thanks to the submitters as well, because this would be literally impossible without your contributions.


End file.
